Recovery
by SecretlyATurnip
Summary: A destiel fanfic, continuing from the events of a different destiel fanfic 'Twist and Shout', then running parallel to the Supernatural canon. The tale of Castiel's rise to grace and his personal war against Heaven and Hell as he fights to protect Dean Winchester, and his struggle to help Dean remember him. I strongly recommend you read Twist and Shout before reading this.
1. Chapter 1

Golden Californian sunshine filtered between the slats in the dust coated hospital blinds. Pale green paint clung to the walls, speckled with a thin layer of grime. The room was sparsely decorated; a projector sat discarded in the corner of the room, and a heartbeat monitor was quietly flatlining next to a single bed. A medical assistant bit back tears as she flitted between the beeping machines, struggling to maintain her composure.

On the bed lay the body of a young man. He was thin and feeble looking, skin sunken and papery. A pale blue blanket covered his toothpick thin limbs. Brown hair grew matted and unkempt, and a thin stubble greyed his jawline. His icy blue eyes- almost closed- stared at the wall. As the hours dragged past, thins bars of light from the window crawled across the room and settled behind the figure as distorted golden wings. His expression was relaxed as though he was in a deep sleep, peaceful. Almost content. He might have been handsome, once.

At his side knelt a broken man.

His dirty blond hair was cut short, splaying from his scalp in every direction. Gold stubble decorated his chin and neck, making him look rugged and worn. His heaving shoulders were encased in a black leather jacket, and a grey tear-stained shirt hung lamely from his vaguely muscled chest. Weathered, calloused hands supported a face damp with tears, and a small golden amulet hung loosely from his neck. He whimpered quietly, then gently clasped one of the dead man's hands and pressed it to his forehead. The assistant laid a hand on his shoulder, attempting to sooth him with her apologies. She lent over to loosen the man's grip on the cold hand he held so tightly, only to be savagely pushed away. The man loosed a mournful wail, a bass note of pure animal grief, and a fresh wave of tears slowly rolled away from his bloodshot green eyes.

"I- I love you. Please Cas. Please come back."

The nurse tried desperately to offer her condolences, then gave up and backed away from him. Glancing at him sadly, she continued tending to the machines. The man continued to sniff and whimper, and outside the hospital the sun continued to shine, the brightest it had in days.

And this should be where the story ended. Later, the crying man's grief should subside, he should attend the dead man's funeral, and he should continue living his life. Much later, he might smile again. Perhaps he'd even love again. He'd be a doting uncle to his brother's beautiful children. He'd watch them grow, maybe even teach them to ride his motorcycle. The crying man would grow old and pass away, surrounded by his loving family. Dean Winchester wouldn't even be a footnote in history, an old man from a forgotten time, who fought a forgotten war, and loved a forgotten man. His name would slowly fade into obscurity, as though he'd never lived in the first place. But someone hadn't planned for the story to end that way. So the story changed.

Castiel sat up, slowly, and rolled out of bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel stood up, rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. There wasn't much he could look at, to be honest. The sun had gone behind a cloud and his room had dimmed. Blue eyes sparkling with curiosity, Cas worked his legs and stretched his arms, loosing his stiff joints. Strange. He felt as though he was wading through treacle, each step was a struggle. His thoughts came slowly, muffled. Castiel concluded he was dreaming.

Cautiously- the floor chilled against his bare feet- he wandered the few steps to the heartbeat monitor. It was flatlining, it's soft beeping interrupting the silence. His eyes followed the mess of wires to the pathetic, emaciated figure on the bed. Castiel stared for a while, then moved closer, curiosity piqued. He knelt down on one knee, until he was about level with the man's face, then he began to look closer. There was something eerily familiar about the angle of his jaw and the dark stubble that peppered it, the way his fluffy brown hair flopped over his forehead, and his vacant, sunken eyes. Cloudy, staring into the distance, a delicate shade of icy blue-

Castiel fought the bile rising in his throat. Realisation hit him, and he backed away from his own corpse. Leaning against the wall for support he took a deep shuddering breath. It was only a nightmare. He'd wake up in a moment, in his bed at home, next to Dean. Dean would soothe him, hold him, it was only a nightmare, go back to sleep.

But something about the deepening pit of despair in his stomach told him otherwise. Everything about this dream felt so real. He walked to the window and leaned on the sill, and proceeded to cup his forehead in his hands and run his fingers through his tangled hair. Peeking between the blinds he could see the sun shining weakly down on San Francisco, city life bustling away in the late afternoon. He was a few floors up, giving him a slight angle on the street below, and he could see Dean's car parked on the pavement outside. A horn blasted and tyres squealed as a woman walked into the street without looking, and a beggar played guitar next to a newspaper stall. A dark flock of birds weaved and twisted over the rooftops and Castiel couldn't help but feel assured in that moment that everything- in all it's perfect detail- was real. Which made the scene behind him all the more terrifying.

Glancing back at his dead body triggered fragments of memories, he remembered a different man- Balthazar- standing at his bedside. Then later, another man joined them, and Balthazar left.

And Castiel slowly began to remember his descent into oblivion. When he was first admitted into the hospital he was fairly lucid. His nurse would visit him, and sit and talk with him, and Castiel would tell her anything. As the days passed and he felt weaker and weaker, and his vision began to dim, the nurse would still visit him, still talk to him. One day, he told her about Dean. He was surprised by how openly accepting she was of his sexuality. Most people would try to put as much distance between him and themselves as possible if Castiel so much as hinted at his own preferences. The fact alone that the nurse didn't walk away from him as soon as he told her made him trust her. So he told her everything.

He told her about his family, his brothers, his school, and his dreams to become a doctor.

He told her how he met Dean, what he looked like, his favourite foods, hobbies- everything, omitting only the most intimate details. He also told her how Dean left him. How even after everything Dean put him through, Castiel waited for him to come home. And the hope that Dean would come back to him slowly ate away at Castiel from the inside, until there was nothing left.

Castiel remembered that in one of his less sane moments he'd cried out for Dean, a maddened plea for his return. In truth, he didn't expect him to come back, not when he first left him, and not in the end. It had been years since he last saw him. But he asked the nurse anyway, pleading with her- just to help him see Dean one last time. He didn't want to die alone.

A few empty days later when Dean walked through the door, Castiel thought his heart would burst. For the first time in years he'd felt alive again, buzzing with energy from head to toe, eyes suddenly bright, heart soaring a million miles above their heads. After all these years Castiel still loved him as fiercely as when they'd first met. In that moment he didn't care that Dean had left him, only that he'd kept his promise- he'd finally come back home to him.

The croak he let out hardly did his feelings justice.

His memories fractured and twisted, fragmenting into a haze the more he tried to remember. Vaguely, as though looking into his memories through muddy water, he recalled Dean showing him pictures of a beach. He remembered that moment clearest, at the seaside with Dean, taking pictures, not a care in the world. Just him, Dean and the sea.

He remembered lying in the hospital bed with Dean by his side. He would show Cas the pictures by projecting them on the wall and Castiel could make out every beautiful detail. But at this point it was hard for him to even speak. His words had to be forced, and even they were the wrong words.

A whimper awoke Castiel from his reverie, and he turned to find the source of the pitiful noise.

"Dean?"

He knelt on the opposite side of the bed, tears still falling, clutching the dead Castiel's cold hand as though it was the most important thing in the world. Guilt speared though Cas' heart and he rushed around the bed to hold him. It may have been a dream, he didn't care, he just didn't want to see Dean like this. Castiel knelt to touch him, to put an arm around his chest, to wipe away his tears but his arm slid through Dean's body as though it wasn't there at all.

Cas sank to the floor. He couldn't explain what was going on. He'd heard of people having out of body experiences, but they came back to tell the tale. Judging by the state of both the nurse and Dean, Castiel wouldn't be making his return visit any time soon.

With a rustle of fabric Dean stood up, and gently laid the dead Castiel's hand back on the bed. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded a goodbye to the nurse. Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets he swiftly walked out door. Cas, confused, and lacking anything else to do, followed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Cas walked alongside Dean as he trudged to his car. Strolling through the beautiful Californian sunshine, it might have been as though nothing had changed, except that any onlookers would just see Dean, no-one would know Castiel was even there.

When they reached Dean's car Cas clambered inside through the driver's door, over the gear stick, then settled into the passenger seat. Dean sat behind the wheel, and stared vacantly into the distance for a while before he put the key into the ignition.

They drove for hours in complete silence, save for the rumble of tyres on the road. The world continued to bustle on around them. In traffic jams-when a cacophony of horns and raised voices drowned out all other noise- Dean would quietly roll up his window and sit in silence, isolated from the muffled outside world.

Soon enough they'd cleared San Francisco and were speeding along a countryside highway. After a while Dean switched on the radio and wound down his window; the wind flattened his hair over his skull but Castiel's remained the same, stubbornly fluffy and still. Castiel looked over at Dean, and guilt writhed in his stomach at what he saw. Dean's whole body was stiff, his movements were robotic at best and he had his jaw clenched against an invisible pain. His eyes were a pale green in the sunlight, blank, vacant and watery- glaring down the road. After a few minutes he wound up the window, apparently tired of the breeze.

'...take my whole life too, for I can't help falling-'

Dean punched the radio off, and they continued to drive on silence.

Castiel followed Dean around for about a week afterwards. He couldn't be sure of the exact time- he lost track of the days. Dean would drift from place to place- Bobby's or his own apartment- going through the motions of living, but there was no soul in him, no emotion. Castiel was forced to watch him, not needing to eat or sleep, and sometimes he would ponder why he was still here. Some days Dean would cry himself to sleep and other days he would drown his grief in whiskey. Once he'd called Sam to talk about things, but had hung up after minutes and gone back to drinking. It was so desperately sad, Dean was trying to carry on living, trying to keep his promise to Cas, but something was missing. He just wasn't all there.

Castiel just wanted it to end. He was sick of this purgatory, having to watch Dean pine and suffer over his death. He wanted things to go back to how they were, he just wanted his nightmare to end.

Castiel's funeral was scheduled five days after his death.

It was a foggy Tuesday morning and a fine mist hung in the air like frozen smoke, obscuring anything at a distance. A modest group stood around Castiel's grave: a handful of friends from school, a few family members, family friends- and Dean. Castiel stood invisible at Dean's side as the ceremony progressed. Drops of moisture speckled his suit and hair, which was combed sideways over his head. His glazed green eyes stared past the gathering, into the mist, oblivious to the world around him. As the coffin was lowered into the ground, Cas heard a woman speaking behind him.

"A shame, isn't it?"

No-one reacted to her comment. Everyone stared at the coffin as though she weren't there, it seemed as though only Cas could hear her musings.

"You know what they say, only the good die young."

Castiel turned to see the source of the voice. With a small gasp he realised who she was. Long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders and sat on the hem of a simple black dress. She stood slightly shorter than Cas did, and she had soft, comforting features. She stood, smiling sympathetically- right at him.

"Y-you can see me?"

"Yes Castiel Novak, I can see you. And I'm here to take you home."

Confusion swept across Castiel's face and his nurse continued to smile sweetly.

"The names still Tessa by the way."

Cas turned and glanced back at his funeral. People were beginning to give their eulogies, and Dean was still staring into the distance. Cas returned his attention back to Tessa.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the hospital?"

"Not right now, I'm... on a break."

Cas narrowed his eyes, suspicious, then dismissed the comment with a shake of his head.

"What do you mean, home?"

"Well...your eternal home, your spirit home, your final resting place."

Castiel's eyes widened in horror.

"Are you- are you the Grim Reaper?"

She smiled.

"A reaper, yes, but hopefully not so grim."

Cas took a step back. He was shocked, not at her answer but by the ease that he accepted it with. It was as though he already knew in the back of his mind. He reacted like he'd been told some trivial piece of information- it seemed to him a completely normal thing to say, he didn't doubt her in the slightest- and that scared him.

"You said...my final resting place...Y-you mean like...hell?"

Tessa laughed softly, and it sounded like the tinkle of broken glass.

"Not for you my dear."

Cas' shoulders dropped, visibly relieved. Behind his back Dean walked slowly to the front of the gathering and began his eulogy. Cas glanced back at the sudden silence and a flash of painful longing crossed his face.

"I just want this to end."

Tessa nodded, slow and sad, as though she understood.

"Then come with me. All you have to do is say yes. I can make this end for you Cas, you won't have to suffer, see him suffer... It could finally be over." He thought her speech sounded annoyingly rehearsed.

Castiel stared forlornly at the dew drops in the grass, and thought for a while. He could hear Dean talking behind him, his voice beginning to break, but he wasn't paying attention. He just felt numb.

"Can you just tell me one thing?"

Tessa leaned her head to one side, curious.

"What happens to Dean? Does he get better? Does he start biking again? Does he find someone else?I- I mean, I just want to know he'll be okay."

Cas' voice faltered, and he choked himself into silence.

"I'm so sorry Cas, but I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell you anything."

Cas glared at her through tearful eyes, then nodded slowly.

"I guess I can understand that."

"So do you agree t-"

"I agree. Let's just get this over with."

Cas glanced over his shoulder at Dean, one last time. He was nearing the end of his speech and he was clearly fighting back tears. He'd dropped the piece of paper he'd been reading from and was speaking straight from his heart, eyes set on something in the distance that no-one else could see. A curious mixture of pain and happiness had filled his low, rumbling voice and every word sent a chill up Cas' spine; the raw emotion in his speech made his chest burn.

Castiel's head snapped back round to Tessa.

"Do it."

He growled through clenched teeth, his throat constricted by emotion, eyes reddening.

"DO IT. I do not want to be here anymore!"

Castiel's face locked into an expression of anguished determination. Behind him, Sam walked Dean back to his seat, one arm around his shoulder as they walked. The cool air had paled everyone's faces, and they looked ghostly in the early morning light. Jess was crying in her seat as Sam sat down next to her, and Bobby was staring on at Dean, something close to pride in his eyes.

All at once, Tessa surged forward and clamped a hand onto Castiel's shoulder. His knees gave way and he collapsed to the ground, the world dissolved around him and he was falling into endless darkness.

For a second, Dean thought he could see Cas, just out of the corner of his eye. A mad hope gripped him, and his face contorted into a picture of desperate insanity, but as he turned to face him Castiel disappeared, and all he could see was empty space.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel awoke in a dimly lit alleyway. He was curled up on the damp cement, and the moisture had soaked into his clothes and hair. It must have rained recently, he thought. He realised he was still wearing his hospital gown, only it was now coated with dirt on one side, and he realised it stank- of course it did, it hasn't been washed for a week. Slowly, Cas sat up. He winced, his joints aching as though he hadn't moved in days, and dragged himself to his feet. He shivered in the cool evening breeze

On his left was the alley's exit onto the street. He could see cars blurring past in a rainbow of colour, and a small diner on the opposite side of the road. A pack of hooded figures shifted on their feet, gripping silvery chains restraining vicious looking dogs; they guarded the exit to the alley. It might have been the light, or the distance, or maybe a hallucination, but in that moment Castiel would have sworn their eyes were completely black.

Shaken, Cas looked away and wandered to his right. It was a long way down the alley, but he could see a large gate, a silvery padlock stark against the gate's brown rusted tinge. If he squinted he could also make out a shadowy figure who waved casually when Cas looked right at it.

Either side of the alley was walled by about ten feet tall of brick, but Cas could still see the start of a forest over the top. Now that he was looking, he noticed a small wooden door embedded in the bricks, with an even smaller window overlooking the forest. Curiosity took hold, and Cas looked through the window, pressing his nose to the glass. It took his eyes a while to adjust to the sudden darkness beyond the wall. It was hard to see in the twilight, but Cas could make out tree trunks, scarred by what looked like claw marks. Everything was deathly silent.

With a crack like a gunshot, a hulking black figure smashed into the thin glass, all claws and fur and red-eyed fury. Castiel recoiled, terrified, and hit his head on the brick wall behind him. Seeing stars he glanced to his left then right. He hastily made his way to the gate. He'd figured this was the safest way to, after all if he was going to get into trouble he'd rather be against one person than against five people plus a pack of dogs, or worse- whatever the hell was on the other side of that door.

Cas wandered slowly over to the figure at the locked gate, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself down. As he drew closer the man's face came into focus, he found himself thinking how much easier this would be if he still had his glasses. Castiel was about twenty feet away from the man- he had been able to identify him as a man, even without his glasses- then he froze. The man's blurred features were beginning to look familiar; clean shaven, small eyes fairly sunken into his face, a beak of a nose and a slight line for a mouth. He waved again. Castiel squinted.

"Balthazar?"

Balthazar straightened up at his name, and shoved his waving hand back into the pocket of the dinner suit he was wearing. It must have cost hundreds of dollars. His trousers and shirt were creased and crumpled, the jacket looked worn and dusty, and a slight stubble covered his chin. He walked a few cautious steps towards Castiel, who noticed the suit, and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Balthazar, what are you wearing?"

Balthazar laughed a low rumble, then nervously ran a hand through his brown-blond hair.

"After all this time, Cas, all the things you've been through, the first thing you say to me is a criticism on my fashion sense."

He started laughing again, his low rumble slowly morphing into harsh barks, robbing him of breath until he doubled over and started wheezing. Castiel stood with a small smile growing on his own face, reflecting that Balthazar's flashy suit perhaps wasn't the most pressing issue here.

"I thought I'd get one of the usual questions-" he imitates a young girl's voice, high and squeaky "Oh hello Balthazar! Do you mind telling me where I am? Gosh Balthazar, what are we doing in this dark alley? I don't mean to alarm you Balthazar, but I think I'm dead!"

Balthazar doubled over laughing again,and Cas- despite being slightly offended by Balthazar's impressions- allowed himself to chuckle.

Balthazar took a long, deep breath, and as he exhaled he was momentarily haloed by the mist. Recovering quickly he stood up straight again and stared at Castiel, his dark eyes suddenly serious.

"Castiel, do you know why you're here?"

The smile on Castiel's lips froze then faded. His eyebrows knitted together.

"Instead of rotting in the ground? No Balthazar, I have no idea why I'm here. But I sure as hell wish I wasn't."

Balthazar frowned.

"That's a shame. I thought we could have a party. Y'know, booze, babes- or guys in your case-" He shrugged his eyebrows, but got nothing except mild shock from Cas. He shrugged again.

"-whatever. But this is never any fun when you don't even know why you're here."

Castiel slouched on his feet, forehead furrowing as he contemplated what Balthazar said. He wasn't even sure if he was still dreaming. His surroundings seemed so real, so tangible, but the events unfolding before him seemed anything but. He glanced at Balthazar, who was staring at him expectantly, and thought over the past week. He'd supposedly died, but then came back to life as some form of spirit? Invisible to everyone but Tessa. He wondered if she was actually real. Who knew, for all he cared she was a hallucination. He'd blacked out at his own funeral, and woken up here, cold, confused and now he was talking to his ex-boyfriend. If he hadn't doubted his own sanity before, he certainly did now.

"You all right there Cassie? I can practically hear the little cogs whirring in your head. You always were a thinker."

Balthazar smirked, then lent back against the gate, which rattled metallically. Cas frowned, visibly annoyed, then sighed. He'd humour him for now.

"Am I dreaming?"

"Nope."

"Am I dead?"

"Well...your meat suit is."

His eyes narrowed,"Meat s-" Cas didn't even bother finishing his question, he shook his head and sighed. A grin spread across Balthazar's face at Castiel's obvious confusion.

"Is this some kind of elaborate practical joke? Because well done, ha-ha, very funny. Great one. I want out."

"Oh Cas, if only it were so simple."

Balthazar's grin dropped to a sad smile and he sauntered forward, dragging his feet on the ground. He clapped his hands around Castiel's cheeks, bringing their faces intimately close. Cas could smell alcohol on his breath. Balthazar's voice dropped to a rasping whisper.

"Oh no Cassie, you see, someone upstairs has a soft spot for you."

"Upstairs?-"

"Did I stutter? Yeah, upstairs. The big man's got plans for you Cassie. But no-ones allowed to tell you."

Balthazar backed away, and stood in front of the rusty gates. He swayed on his feet, staring at the ground which was still wet with rain.

"I wore this suit because I thought you'd like it. It's a Westwood. Very expensive. Not that I payed for it, mind." Balthazar stared vacantly into the distance. Cas crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling overly exposed in just his hospital gown. He'd never heard of Westwood, but the suit still looked impressive, if a bit badly kept. He shivered again. Balthazar started to mutter unintelligibly, glaring intensely at the brick wall.

"Um... Balthazar?"

For a few minutes Castiel watched him mutter under his breath, quietly concerned for his own safety. Every so often he'd stop and stand silently for a while, eyes glazed over, then he'd resume his muttering. Nervously, Castiel rubbed at his own face, as though to clear something from his eyes. He ran his hands through his knotted and damp hair, glanced behind him to the door on the wall and sucked in a deep breath of the cool evening air. He stood for a while, awkwardly waiting for Balthazar's muttering to subside, he took a moment to look about his surroundings.

"My apologies, Castiel."

Balthazar was staring at him again, completely sober, with a defeated look undisguised on his face. Castiel was slightly taken aback.

"It's nothing, really, I just want to go-"

"You can't just go home Cassie. You're dead. Returning could...compromise the mental stability of those you hold...most dear."

The image of Dean nearly having an emotional breakdown at Cas' funeral flashed unbidden into his head.

"I've been told to let you in now."

"What, through the gate?"

Balthazar nodded slowly, almost sympathetically. Just like Tessa had.

"Please Balthazar, I don't understand- just tell me what's going on!"

Desperation and fear filled Cas' voice, and he started forward. As though he'd hit a brick wall, Cas rebounded, unable to get at Balthazar.

"You aren't required to understand me Cas. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what? You haven't done anything wrong! Look Balthazar if this is about Dea-"

Balthazar took a final step back, and waved his hand over the padlock. The silvery metal liquefied and fell in droplets to the ground, forming a pool of flowing moonlight. It rolled and boiled, then moved towards Cas, and despite being terrified he didn't move- although not for lack of trying- he was near paralysed on the spot. The molten silver formed a perfect circle around him, then solidified, turning dull and grey.

"I'm so sorry Cas."

Anguish filled Balthazar's face as the gates behind him creaked.

"Welcome back."

"Balthaza-!"

Castiel was cut off as the gates swung open, a hideous screech tore into the quiet of the night as rust tried to still the hinges. Cas squinted as a blinding white light expanded until it was all he could see. Blinded and deafened he dropped to his knees, clutching at his ears and closing his eyes against the light. He felt a hand on his shoulder, then another on his forehead, then his neck and all over his body until he was covered by invisible hands. He could hear a thousand voices screaming in his head, then all the hands seemed to press in on him at once with enough pressure that Castiel though he would implode. He screamed in agony, and was plunged into darkness once more.


	5. Chapter 5

"This is a good sign."

"That it survived?"

"And in such good condition too."

"With a minor malfunction, the immune system seems to be fairly non-existent."

"I've noticed. We'll have to find a way to compensate."

"Has he been assigned his Grace yet?"

"No sir, we're having trouble finding a... donor."

"Well find one quickly, we can't afford to lose him when our plans are so close to fruition."

"Yes, sir."

"Go and fetch Anna, I have a feeling she'll want to meet her newest recruit."

"Of course sir."

"Oh, and Rachel?"

"...yes, sir?"

"Tell Virgil to prepare himself. He's awake."

"Sir."

A short flustering sound of wind and feathers echoed down the hall, to where Castiel lay, on a cold marble slab.  
He cautiously cracked open an eye, his world was blurry and dark at first. He lifted a hand to rub his eyes, then hurriedly put it down again as a bolt of pain shot up his arm. Everything ached, and he shut his eyes again, trying to breathe, but even that hurt.

"Hello Castiel."

He slowly opened his eyes again and lifted his head slightly, to see an old man standing over him, smiling warmly.

"I understand you may have a few questions. Please, ask away."

Cas groaned quietly, and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back onto the slab. Maybe if he just went back to sleep, he would wake up next to Dean, with everything back to normal, and all he'd have to worry about was paying the rent, and keeping his job, and looking out for Dean. Normal worries, not like worrying why you were trapped in some giant marble cell, beaten and bruised, and supposedly dead.

"Now now Castiel, there's no need to be shy."

Silence.

" I seem to have you at a disadvantage. My name is Zachariah."

The old man smiled down at Cas like a proud father, Cas still lay on the slab, eyes closed and barely breathing. After a while he took a deep breath, and while wincing he tried to speak.

"Is this-"

He stopped abruptly, surprised at the sound of his own voice. It was deep and gravelly, and so unfamiliar. His throat dry and raw, Cas tried again.

"Is this heaven?"

Cas wheezed quietly, each breath burning his lungs and throat.

"Not quite. I'd imagine you could think of this as a ...waiting room, of sorts."

Cas sighed deeply, but it rapidly morphed into a cough. He really couldn't care less. On any other day he might have been curious and full of questions, but this wasn't any other day and right now he just felt broken, exhausted, and scared. He just wanted to go home. Thankfully the aching was beginning to subside, and he was starting to feel more awake, although his throat still burned.

"Why am I here?"

Seemingly concerned by the defeated tone of Cas' question his voice took a more serious note.

"A solid question. To be truthful I was hoping you could tell me. "

Cas shifted his arms and propped himself up on his elbows. With no small amount of effort he swung his legs to the left and off of his plinth, pulling himself into sitting position. He sat for a moment, resting his head in his hands, scratching at his stubble.

"You really don't have a clue, do you?"

Zachariah disguised a smirk with a smile as Cas lifted his head from his hands and glared right into his eyes.

"You called this a waiting room. What am I waiting for?"

"Not missing a single trick are you? Clever boy."

Zachariah grinned strangely, staring right back at Cas, completely unfazed by the undisguised anger in his cold blue eyes.

"Answer the question."

"Goodness Castiel, there's really no need to be so rude. Did your parents never tell you to respect your elders? And to think, I was told you were a relatively well mannered man, intelligent- evidently, but I appear to have been misinformed. You'll get into all sorts of trouble around here with that attitude."

He smiled a mocking smile, to which Cas responded with a scowl. He'd play along for now, if it got him the answers he so desperately craved.

"Answer the question, please."

Zachariah grinned again.

"Much better! You asked what you're waiting for? Well, many things really."

He paused a few seconds, purely to spite Castiel.

"Your ascension, up to a higher plane of existence. Another step towards your inescapable destiny. The beginning of the end."

Zachariah was obviously taking immense pleasure in teasing Castiel with his cryptic answers, made blatantly obvious by the ugly grin the was growing to occupy half his face.  
Before Castiel could retort, preferably with a punch to his face, another winged flustering sound filled the chamber and a red haired woman strode in through the archway.  
She was clad in a blood red leather jacket and a pair of tight black jeans, Castiel couldn't see her face from where he was sitting.

"Excuse me Zachariah, but with your approval I would speak to Castiel -alone."

Her voice challenged Zachariah to deny her, as though she couldn't tell him to leave as bluntly as she'd like to. Zachariah smiled at the new arrival and graciously bowed, mocking the woman.

"Oh but of course, I surely have far more important matters that demand my attention."

He nodded towards Cas.

"We could continue this converstion another time, perhaps?"

And before their eyes the paunchy old man vanished, accompanied by the same flapping noise that had heralded the entrance of the red-headed woman. She slowly approached Castiel, who was still sitting uncomfortably on the slab, and smiled more earnestly than the Zachariah had.

"I apologise sincerely for his beha-"

Cas laughed. He tilted his head from side to side, peering around sheets of hair.

"Anna? Is that you?"

"Yes."

Cas fell silent, confused at the coldness in her voice. Anna had gone to school with him, she was even at the house party when he saw Dean for the first time. What the hell was she doing here?

"Please," Cas intoned as much desperation in his voice as he could muster in the hope she might pity him, "just tell me why I'm here. "

His mind bristled with unasked questions; is this even real? Was he dreaming? Why was Tessa the only one who could see him at his own funeral, and what was Balthazar doing in that alleyway? What was this place, how did he get here, what was all that commotion at the alleyway's gate about? Was he dead, or dying and witnessing a delusion, or was he just insane?  
Pity flickered across Anna's face as she sensed his growing despair, and she sat down delicately on the slab next to him, not too close that she'd make him uncomfortable, and not too far away that she'd seem distanced and uncaring.

"Do you want something comfier to sit on? Answering your questions will take a while."

Smiling at such a seemingly trivial observation Cas nodded slowly. The knot in his stomach loosened a fraction as small amount of his anxiety faded away. At least one person didn't want to hurt him. 'Yet' the thought flashed unbidden into his head, and from then on he couldn't help but view her with suspicion.  
He'd blinked, and two ornate chairs had appeared in front of the pair, each with velvety red padding and gold painted wood.

"Where did they-"

"Just take a seat Castiel, and I'll gladly answer any question you would ask."

She slid off the marble and walked over to the chairs, gracefully seating herself in the one closest to the exit. She waved Castiel over, and she proceeded to make herself comfortable. He mimicked her actions and slid off the slab, his ankles cracking loudly when he put his full weight on them. He then padded over to the remaining chair, the floor icy on his bare feet. He fell into his chair nowhere near as gracefully, and sank into the seat, the aching in his joints almost gone. He resisted the urge to shut his eyes and fall asleep, and began to decide on a question. After a few seconds of silence he spoke, his voice still deep and raw.

"Do you know what's happened to me, or do I-?"

"I am aware only of the most prominent events that have affected you, Rachel informed me of your... history."

Cas nodded slightly, then launched into his questions.

"Is any of this real?" He leaned forward in his seat, arms resting on his knees.

"All of it," Cas detected the smallest hint of sympathy in her voice, "and I need you to accept this as reality if I'm going to explain any of this to you. What I'm going to tell you is the truth, and it is vital you believe me."  
Cas nodded slowly and stared intensely at the floor while his fingers twisted and knotted the dirty hem of his hospital gown. Her answer had done nothing to reassure him, but then again he wasn't sure anything could.

"If I'm dead, how am I here?"

She sat thinking for a moment, probably on the best way to word her answer.

"What you experienced was the death of your physical form, your soul- which is what you're existing as now- carried on living."

"That's why no one could see me," he shrugged."makes sense."

Anna nodded, smiling ever so slightly.

"Before I woke up here I was in an alleyway, and there was this man...blue eyes, kinda blonde hair, wearing a suit?" He mimed for each description," Well I was wondering if you knew what he was doing there."  
Anna sat silently for a moment then she leant forward too and rested her chin on her hands, after a few seconds she looked curiously at Castiel.

"Was his name Michael-No...Balthazar by any chance?"

"Um, yeah, Balthazar. Do you know him?"

"I knew him. He vanished a while ago, most believed he was dead. Do you know him?"

"Er..." Cas leaned back into his chair and started pulling at his hospital gown again, red faced and awkward. "Yeah, he was my, um... He was a very good friend of mine." He figured he didn't want to risk angering her, and lose the only person who could help him out of this prison.

"Right...Okay then. Any more questions?"

Eager to change topic Cas answered, perhaps too quickly.

"Yes! Definitely, um..."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Why am I here?"

Her eyebrow fell and she pressed her lips together, then leant back into her chair with a sigh.

"It's complicated."

Castiel smiled earnestly, his blue eyes staring hopefully into her green ones- like Dean's, he realised with a jolt.

"I have time."

She nodded, sighed again, and stared up at the vaulted marble ceiling.

"Remember- everything I'm saying is the truth. It's going to be a lot to take in all at once. "

"Just tell me."

"I don't know where to begin."

He frowned slightly then leant back into his chair, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to rid himself of his fatigue.

"Well, how about you start with where you fit into all of this?"

"If you insist, although I'm not sure how much I'm permitted to tell you."

Ignoring Castiel's puzzled expression she ploughed on, focusing on a speck of dirt on her shoe. She began to speak, slowly and clearly.

"My name is Anna Milton and I am an angel of The Lord. I'm the head of a small garrison of angels, into which I should be attempting to re-recruit you. I was in charge of monitoring your rehabilitation Castiel, keeping you safe, hiding you from everything that hunted you. You and I knew each other once, in fact we served together, on multiple occasions. I have been stationed on this earth for nearly... two thousand years? I've begun to lose track of time. In the most recent centuries my garrison and I have been watching over you as you lived mortal life after mortal life, which you've been doing to-" She glanced up at Cas and stopped talking when she saw the layers of bewilderment piling up on his face.

"My apologies Castiel, I have confused you."

He sat in his chair, slack jawed and open mouthed, with his pale lips forming a small, perfect 'o'. After a few seconds he blinked the glazed look from his eyes and shook his head. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed as his expression changed from confusion to saddened anger.

"If your not going to tell me anything that's fine, just say so. You don't have to mock me. Just kill me or whatever you've got me trapped in here for."

"I can assure you Castiel I have no intention of harming-"

"Yeah? Then tell me why I'm here!" He rose to his feet, face reddening as a rage began to build in him that seared away any traces of fear he'd been feeling up to that moment. He glared at Anna, and his voice slowly grew louder "Tell me the truth! I don't want to hear any of your angel bullsh-"

"Take your seat Castiel."

Anna had slowly risen to her own feet and despite Cas' outburst her face was a picture of tranquility. Her voice was lowered to a deadly whisper, laced with unspoken threats.

"Don't think you can tell me what to do- I'm _dead_ Anna, I attended my own _funeral_ and I have watched- unable to intervene- as the only person I have ever truly loved slowly _broke down _before my eyes! So don't think you can tell me to-"

"Take your _seat_, Castiel."

Her voice was icy, low and commanding. Castiel's knees buckled and he fell back into his chair, unable to stand as though restrained by invisible bonds.

"Did you mishear me when I said I spoke only the truth?"

Seemingly without reason an cold fear gripped Castiel's heart as Anna stood menacingly a few feet away.

"Would you call me a liar?"

She took an agonisingly slow step forward, her previously calm face showing the smallest trace of contempt. Cas still struggled against his invisible bonds and the fear in his heart began to blossom on his face.

"Perhaps you need convincing. Something to kick start a little faith."

"Please don't-"

Castiel's plea was lost as a shrieking wind whipped up around the pair. Their hair was tugged and thrown by the gale, Cas' flat against his skull and Anna's thrown back over her shoulders. Their clothes billowed and flapped around their bodies and the raging currents of air sapped all warmth from Castiel's skin. Squinting against the wind he looked for Anna. When he spotted her his insides turned to ice. She was standing perfectly still against the gale, with her hands clasped loosely in front of her and her eyes dark silhouettes had risen from her back, stretching and extending until they were spread to the size of a small plane. Unbothered by the wind they floated still in the air: a pair of translucent wings the colour of shadow, ragged around the edges where feathers should be.  
Then her eyes flickered open and settled calmly on Castiel. The wind subsided and her wings faded, the room was so still that anyone would think nothing had happened at all.

"Are you prepared to hear my answers now Castiel?"


End file.
